


an appraisal

by ElasticElla



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, Power Imbalance, Watersports, noncon wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 18:13:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3946708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fisk's mother never calls, and Wesley becomes Vanessa's personal guard after the accident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	an appraisal

“Where are you going?” 

Vanessa’s voice cuts across the airy apartment, and Wesley almost feels guilty for a moment before remembering he hasn’t done anything wrong. 

“Just to the restroom ma’am.”

“No,” she says, and for an instant he wonders if she’s scared, if the almost lethal poisoning affected her more than they believed. Something akin to pity turns his stomach, and he goes to reassure her like he would anyways, though perhaps with softer words.

“There are a dozen guards outside, nothing will happen in the meantime.” 

She tilts her head curiously, “Are you questioning my orders?”

His ears burn, and his eyes drop down, “No ma’am.” 

Vanessa smiles, pouring herself another glass of wine, “Did you pick this white as well?” 

Wesley lifts his eyes to the label, though he already knows the answer. “Yes ma’am.” 

“And you were the one to find my gallery first. _Me_ first.”

Wesley doesn’t answer that- isn’t sure what Fisk has or hasn’t told her regarding their first meeting. He quite likes his head attached, thank you very much.

She smiles thinly, “You’re very loyal Wesley, pretty too.” 

The blood drains from his face, and he’s expecting some variation of the next command, “Kneel.” 

He drops to his knees, the cold marble floor not nearly hard enough to shake away the worry racing through his veins. He couldn’t disobey her, his employer would take it more personally than if he disobeyed him. But if she kept going in this direction...

“Wilson never asked you to do this did he?” She circles him, eyes searching. 

“No ma’am,” he answers, gaze trained to the floor. 

“Pity. We’ll have to fix that, I’m sure your employer will find you just as… enticing as I do like this.” 

A shiver rolls through his body, and he hopes that she somehow didn’t notice or that an assailant will come in and allow him to shoot someone. He isn’t that lucky though, instead his bladder twinges sharply reminding him he only has minutes to get to a toilet. 

“Take off your jacket.” 

He complies, placing the folded garment next to him. It takes his mind off things for a moment, and then he needs to bring his thighs together, to cross his legs, something, _anything_ to make his bladder shut up. His hands move behind his back, grabbing his elbows with tight knuckles. 

“Please, I need-”

“No,” Vanessa says, a hand on her hip. “So disobedient.” 

A whine edges past his lips, and his ears burn hotter. She grins at the noise, a new idea forming. 

“Put your hand on your stomach.”

He does, quickly as if they might just brush by his mistakes. He couldn’t honestly believe that, especially not with Wilson as his boss- but she supposes he _is_ rather soft on Wesley. 

“Press down,” she murmurs, bringing a chair closer to sit on. 

He does, eyes wide and thighs twitching. Vanessa watches a single droplet of sweat curve down his face. His whole body trembles, then stills for a moment before trembling again. A single dark spot appears on his pants, and she'd bet half her gallery he hasn't even noticed yet, so focused on not spilling. 

“Good boy,” Vanessa purrs, breaking his concentration. He completely loses it- piss soaking his slacks and dribbling down to the floor. It pools between his legs and the heavy scent of urine coats the air. His entire face is burning, but he doesn’t get up. He waits like _a good boy_. The thought sends electric zaps through him, and as if he wasn’t embarrassed enough, his dick begins to harden. 

Wesley looks up, ready to beg to leave- but is shocked silent by the sight. Vanessa’s dress is hiked up around her hips, and her fingers are thrusting in and out of herself. 

“Eyes down,” she commands, and he drops them. 

It’s absurd that he didn’t realize sooner- her fingers keep making loud, lewd wet noises, and her breath is coming harder now. It’s not helping his erection at all, but he’s feeling a hell of a lot less awkward about that. He wants to drag his hand down a few inches, fuck his fist with the same rhythm she's using. The thought barely solidifies before he's taken aback, realizing exactly what he just thought with a cringe. He switches to just breathing through his mouth and stares at her feet. They curl in her shoes, and are suddenly still. 

Everything goes quiet within the apartment, the city softly rumbling outside. He wants nothing more than to look up, to know where her mind is at- but he doesn’t. He waits. 

Her long fingernails tickle under his chin, tilting his head up. 

“Not bad,” she appraises, “you need some more work.” She drops his chin and stands, heels clicking as she walks away, “And clean this mess up.”


End file.
